


Grief Knits Two Hearts

by icandrawamoth



Category: Hell Divers Series - Nicholas Sansbury Smith
Genre: Children, Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Community: fan_flashworks, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tough Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Aaron grieves his wife. Tin tries to help his dad. X tries to help them both.





	Grief Knits Two Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> For fan_flashworks amnesty round - prompt "kids," and a comment_fic prompt of my own: any, any, burying a sad or sick character in pillows and blankets. Title from [this page](https://quotebold.com/condolences-quotes/) (#30).

There's a soft, hesitant knock on the door, and when X opens it, he's surprised to find Tin standing there. The little boy's blond hair is messy, and he wipes his running nose with one overlong sleeve.

“What are you doing here, Tin?” X asks, looking up and down the empty hall. “Where's your dad?”

“That's why I'm here,” the boy murmurs, not quite meeting X's eyes. “He hasn't gotten out of bed today. He's too sad.”

X closes his eyes for a moment. Of course Aaron is sad. That has to be putting it mildly. Bethany's cancer had been eating at her for months before the end, and they'd only burned her body three days ago. X doesn't know how to help his best friend, and he doesn't know how to help the little boy at his door.

“Last time I was sick, Dad piled all these blankets and pillows around me to help me feel better. I got all the ones in our apartment for him, and it didn't help. I thought maybe I didn't have enough and you'd let me borrow some. Please, X?”

Tin looks up at him suddenly, blue eyes pleading, and X's heart lurches in his chest he wonders if the boy truly understands what's happened, that his mother is never coming back. Nevertheless, here he is trying to help Aaron in his genuine, childish way, and X has to swallow hard.

“I think I can find some to spare,” he manages. “Come in.”

Tin follows him inside, and X crosses to the closet. He and Rhonda don't have much for spare linens – no one on the _Hive_ has much to spare of anything – but he finds a thin blanket and a pair of throw pillows they're not using. He's sure Rhonda won't miss them for as long as they're gone, and if she does, he'll make her understand.

X hands one of the pillows to Tin. “Let's bring these to your dad, huh?”

Tin nods and scurries back out the door, X following. The Everhart apartment is just down the corridor, and Tin lets them in, going immediately to Aaron's bedroom. It's dark inside, just the light filtering in from the living area glinting off a tuft of dirty blond hair that emerges from the pile of blankets and pillows his son has amassed around him.

“Daddy?” Tin asks hesitantly, approaching the bed. Aaron murmurs something wordlessly, and Tin lays the pillows beside him. Silently, X passes him the other pillow and the blanket and watches the boy spread them around his dad. Tin stares at Aaron, biting his lip when there's no response, then looking helplessly back at X.

X shakes himself. “Tin,” he says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out rough. “Rhonda made some cookies the other day and hid them under the sink in our apartment. Why don't you run and get some?”

Tin's face shivers into a smile. “Really?”

“Really. Go on.”

Tin casts another long glance at his dad then is out of the room like a shot.

Once he's gone, X heaves a sigh and lowers himself to the bed beside Aaron, who still hasn't moved or spoken.

“He's a good kid,” X says, and when Aaron still doesn't reply, he reaches over to pull back the blankets.

Aaron's eyes are open, that's all X can see of his face, shining dully in the the dim light. One hand clutches the edge of his pillow.

“You can't do this,” X tells him. “You can't just shut down. Tin needs you.”

“X...” Aaron's voice is ragged, like he hasn't spoken in days. X can't remember if he said anything at his wife's funeral and thinks that may actually be true.

“Don't argue with me.” X stares across the room, out the open door and into the tiny kitchen. It's strange not to see Bethany there with a smile on her face like she was for many years. “You lost your wife, but Tin lost his mom. He can't be without his dad, too. You have to deal with your shit.”

“I know.” Finally, Aaron shifts, raising his head a little to look up at X. His face is utterly torn, and it makes X's heart ache. “It hurts so much, X. I don't know what to do.”

“You keep going for your son,” X tells him. Maybe he's being harsh, but life on the _Hive_ is harsh. “You get out of bed, and you take care of Tin. You concentrate on making sure he's okay. And you remember,” X adds, making his voice as gentle as he can, which probably isn't very, “that you have Rhonda and me. You do need help, we're right here.”

The front door of the apartment opens before Aaron can respond, then Tin is bounding into the room again, holding a cookie in his hand. “I hope it's okay I brought one back for dad,” he says to X.

X just nods as Aaron sits up and gives his son a shaky little smile. “Thanks, buddy.” He takes the cookie and eats it slowly as Tin watches. When he's done, he holds out an arm, gesturing Tin forward, and pulls the boy into his lap. Tin goes, huddling against him wordlessly as Aaron holds him close.

X suddenly feels like he's intruding. He stands to go, and Aaron catches his eye over Tin's head. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“You know where to find me,” X answers. He gives his friend's shoulder a squeeze and ruffles Tin's hair beneath his foil hat as he leaves the room.

They're going to be okay eventually, he thinks. Bethany left a hole in their lives that can't be easily filled, but they still have each other, and that counts for something.


End file.
